


No me ensenaste

by Anonymous



Category: Mighty Boosh (TV)
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-09-03
Updated: 2012-09-03
Packaged: 2017-11-13 11:20:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,914
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/502976
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>This was written for a songfic challenge on livejournal. Howard had left and Vince misses him. Vince thinks about Howard and what he meant and still means to him.</p>
            </blockquote>





	No me ensenaste

Deer Howard,  
Plees come bak. I miss yuo...

Vince sighed and scrunched up the paper. He was rubbish at writing letters. Writing anything really. They'd said he was dyslexic in school. Why was it called dyslexia anyway? He couldn't have a disorder he could bloody spell, could he? He'd asked Naboo but all he'd said was, "Try saying speech impediment with a lisp and get back to me, yeah? Try saying lisp with a lisp come to that."

He wished he knew where Howard was. He had an address written on a napkin, but that was just words, like reading a book with no pictures. He wanted to know what the bed Howard slept in looked like, where the kitchen was, how many yellow things with corners there were in the cupboard under the stairs.

He hadn't been apart from Howard for as long as he could remember. He was so used to Howard being there all the time. He was like his elbows. He didn't think about them much and if he did think about them he didn't think anything particularly complimentary, but he couldn't imagine not having them there. Now he was like arms without elbows, utterly pointless.

He could have at least called, fuck it. Vince had been planning how many times to let it go through to voice mail before taking a call from Howard (he didn't want it to seem like he was waiting around by the phone like a loser) and the bastard hadn't even called. Hour after hour, looking over at the phone from whatever he was trying to distract himself with. He'd even tried stocktaking. Granted he'd tried it for six minutes, but still.

Howard always said that Vince was the Sunshine Kid, he was the joy and laughter in this weird relationship of theirs. But it was impossible to laugh without Howard. What was the point in being happy if you hadn't got anyone to cheer up? Vince had become cheerless and depressed. Like all the colour was drained from the world by a black and white rainbow. Bollo brought him some sweets from the corner shop and they were still on the table. He had never left sweets unopened this long ever. Naboo asked him if he was anorexic.

"Cos ya know your legs are fine the way they are. They're sturdy. Nobody wants to shag a twiglet. Vince!" Vince walked to his bedroom silently. He stopped by the doorway and looked over his shoulder.

"I'm fine. I'm not hungry," he said with a small, forced smile and closed the door with a quiet click behind him.

"Oh monkey turds," said Naboo under his breath, "business is really going to suffer with that ball bag walking around like a kicked puppy." Bollo looked up from the hookah and smiled sympathetically (well as much as an ape could). He knew this was Naboo's way of being concerned.

*

He'd insisted that they have separate rooms in Naboo's Dalston flat. He'd had enough jazz noise pollution to last twenty lifetimes when he was living with Howard in the zookeepers' hut back in the Zooniverse. But he'd still been able to sneak into Howard's room if he was scared or lonely during the night and they'd have a midnight crimping session in their pants.

Not like now. Now, there was nowhere to go and no strong arms to hold him, or at the very least give him an awkward pat on the back, depending on how touchy Howard was prepared to get. Now, he had nothing but the emptiness in the pit of his stomach making him sick and the hideous paisley shirt under his bed that still smelled of Howard.

He'd gone out and gotten drunk last night to try and forget. And it had worked too, though a little too well. He'd gone into Howard's room to tell him about the night he'd had and the girls who'd wanted to touch his hair and the latest new rude cocktails. But there was no one there and he'd cried. Naboo had gotten out of bed and wrapped a blanket round him, dried his tears and helped him back to bed.

"I miss Howard," he said in between gulping sobs.

Vince was anything but glamorous when he cried. He couldn't do dainty, lady like, single tear running down the face crying. He cried with his whole being, like a child, with dribble and snot mingling with tears on his face and red bulgy eyes.

"I know you do, Vince," said Naboo rubbing his back, "Can I get you anything? Tea, chocolate?"

"Just stay please," Vince sobbed scrabbling to get a hold of the shaman's hand. Naboo delicatley wiped his hand on his pyjama bottoms and sighed.

"Yeah alright," he said giving Vince's shoulder a squeeze.

*

He was going mad, he must be. Every time he went out he thought he saw Howard. But it was always just some one with a moustache, or some one tall with broad shoulders and a tapered waist (why had he never appreciated that when he had the chance?), or someone with really awful taste in clothes.

He kept thinking of things like how Vince always won their arguments and Howard always lost in the most humiliating way possible. Was this what losing was like? He didn't like it at all. When Howard was back, he'd never argue again. He'd just pretend that jazz was nice and that book marks were interesting and whatever else it took.

Why did he have to realise that he was in love with Howard once he was gone. Gone. He hated that word. I want him, thought Vince, I want him home with me and Naboo and Bollo. And me. Mostly me. I'll share him with the others. But he's mine.

*

That paisley number was losing its Howard smell. He'd had a cry about that and then he'd had to have a little sleep because he was so tired. He ached all over from missing Howard. When he saw him again, he would hold him and never ever let him go. That "don't touch me" shit could take a long walk in the jungle for all he cared. He buried his face into the shirt and inhaled deeply to soak up the last little bit of Howard in it and said his name over and over.

"Howard, Howard, Howard, Howard, Howard."

Naboo and Bollo found curled up cuddling the shirt like a baby's blanket hours later when they came back from clubbing.

"This has gone on long enough, I'm calling that miserable ball bag," said Naboo about as irate as he'd ever been.

*

Howard opened the door to the Nabootique and dropped his single rucksack of the ground. Let it never be said that Howard Moon didn't pack light, sir.

He'd been slightly miffed when Naboo had called him up and told him he had to cut his tour of South Wales short and come home immediately.

"There's stuff back here needs doin' and I'm not doin' it for ya," the tinny lisping voice had said over the phone.

"Vince is there, why can't he do it. I'm on bloody holiday," he replied in his best outraged voice. The one that sounded a bit like a deflating cat.

"Listen, you tosser, you'll come home now, or you'll wish very fervently every time feel like eating something other than soup that you'd come home when I asked you the first time."

So here he was. Home sweet eclectic second hand shop. 

"I'm back," he called out, in case there was anyone in. Probably not at this hour. 

As if to contradict him, he heard a sudden crash and upstairs and the sound of someone running barefoot. Vince burst through the door and launched himself at Howard, bodily.

"Woah, Vince," said Howard and tried unsuccessfully to detach his friend from his torso. He felt a slight dampness through his clothes.

"Vince, are you crying?" he asked, concerned. Vince sniff loudly and wiped his nose on Howard's jumper.

"Yeah, so what?" he said, muffled against his friend's chest and suddenly started shaking.

Howard instinctively put his arms around him and made soothing noises.

"Hey, hey, there, there, little man. I was only gone for a week."

Vince looked up at his with eyes shining with tears.

"You, you were gone so long. And I was all alone and it was horrible. Why did you leave me all alone?" he burst into a fresh bout of sobbing and Howard absently hugged him again.

Honestly, he would have been back in another week.

"Well I'm here now," he said comfortingly.

"You can't go again," said Vince, "You're not allowed. You can't leave me ever, ever again."

Howard sighed dramatically.

"Come on lets make you some hot chocolate and then we can get into our pyjamas and watch cartoons."

Vince nodded and rubbed his eyes and let go of Howard a little bit, but grabbed his hand tightly.

"I can't make the chocolate without my hand, Vince," Howard said reasonably.

"I don't want any," replied Vince, "Just stay with me please."

*

"And as for the signposts, you needed half a pint of phlegm in your throat to pronounce anything. Asking directions was hellish. Obviously this posed no great problem to a man of action...."

Howard looked across at Vince, who was by now sound asleep beside him.

Poor little mite looked like he hadn't slept for a week. He had bruise like shadows under his eyes and he was pale in an unattractive pasty way. Vince's skin usually looked like white marble, but it looked more like sour milk just then. He was terrible at looking after himself without someone to remind him to eat and sleep. Bathing was the obvious exception to this. If he wasn't reminded he would probably never leave the bathroom.

Howard had unearthed an in-case-of-emergency poncho from the back of his wardrobe for Vince to sling on over his pyjamas. Though he'd never admit it under the most exquisite torture, it was the same poncho that Vince used to wear in the Zoo. Sometimes when Howard was feeling low, he would lock himself in his bedroom and wear it for a while until he felt better. A flicker of recognition had crossed Vince's face when he saw it, but he had apparently decided against asking uncomfortable questions.

Curled up next to him, with his thumb in his mouth, Vince looked younger than he had in years. Howard stroked the side of his friend's gaunt face gently. Vince unconsciously leaned towards the caress and made a little noise of appreciation in the back of his throat.

As much as he hated to, Howard would have to wake him to move him into bed. He snaked an arm between him and the sofa and pulled him towards him cautiously. Vince murmured softly, his mouth now inches away from Howard's ear. Howard wrapped his second arm around Vince and squeezed him gently.

"Vince, we have to move now," he whispered, "come on, little man, one foot in front of the other."

Vince drifted into consciousness gradually, while Howard walked him towards his bedroom.

"D'wanna g'bed. Wanna stay wiv you," he slurred semi-coherently.

"Come on now, Vince. Time to sleep. You need your bed or the sofa will hurt your back," Howard encouraged him towards the door.

When they reached their destination, he had to let Vince go with one arm and scrabble for the door handle. He was propped up against his torso and leaning very close to him. The smell of his hair flooded Howard's nostrils, as he received a face full of Vince Noir's coiffure. It was strange and familiar and wholly confusing. Finally, after two seconds that felt like two decades, his hand located the door handle and turned it awkwardly. They half fell through the doorway and made their way to the bed.

Howard laid Vince carefully down on the unmade bed. Vince reached out and clutched something to his chest, which on closer inspection proved to be one of Howard's shirts. The one Vince had sworn up and down had gotten lost at the laundrette the one and only time he'd done the laundry. Howard had assumed that Vince had being trying to insinuate his own style into Howard's wardrobe. This explanation was completely unexpected and oddly touching.

He tried to extract the shirt from Vince's grasp, but as Vince let go of the garment, he clasped Howard's hands instead.

"Vince, I have to go now. You have to let go," Howard whispered urgently.

It was still unclear how awake Vince was when he replied.

"No! I let you go, you'll leave me again!" he whimpered pathetically.

Howard knelt onto the bed and tried again to free his hands.

"Please don't leave me, Howard." Vince's eyelashes were wet and his voice quavered.

Howard lay down next to him and scooted over as close as he could.

"I'm staying, Vince. Don't cry, don't cry." 

"Stay with me, Howard. Don't go" Vince released Howard's hands and leant into the taller man.

Howard held him close and smoothed his hair.

"I'm here, I'm here. Shhh."

He carried on making soothing noises and repeating that soft mantra until he felt Vince's breathing even out. He looked down at the other man's face and was surprised to see Vince's eyes looking back into his. Without knowing exactly why he leant down and planted a warm kiss on his companion's mouth. And then another. On the third kiss, Vince kissed him back softly. They looked back at each other and Vince reached out and touched Howard's face slowly, as though he expected the other man to stop him.

"Is this just a dream? Sometimes I dream that you're back and then I wake up and I'm alone."

"I promise, I'll still be here when you wake up," Howard replied.

"And always?" Vince asked anxiously.

"Forever and ever," Howard said, but Vince was already asleep.

*

Howard drifted into consciousness slowly. He wasn't sure where he was for a while. He wasn't in the B&B and he wasn't in his own room. He became aware of a stirring beside him. Oh.

Vince was sleeping next to him peacefully, with his fist balled in Howard's shirt and his thumb sticking halfway out of his mouth. He was absolutely beautiful.

Vince's eyes fluttered and Howard held his breath for a second. Vince stretched like a cat and opened his eyes fully, letting them settle on Howard.

"You're still here," he said.

"I said I would be," Howard replied, stroking the other man's arm gently.

"I know, but I didn't think you were really real," he replied quietly, "Howard, I know that you have to get away sometimes, but next time can I come? I don't mind if you want to go camping, or go on a tour of band rotundas across Yorkshire, or anything. I just missed you too much when you were gone," he said with a sad smile.

Howard put his arms around him and kissed his hair.

"I'll never leave you alone again, little man. Even if you want me to."

Vince settled himself into Howard's embrace and hummed happily.

"Here, Howard did you kiss me last night or was that a dream?" he asked.

Howard found himself paralysed with embarrassment and started stuttering.

"Can I kiss you?" Vince looked up and him and bit his lip.

Unable to say anything, Howard nodded dumbly. Vince looked down shyly before turning his face to kiss Howard. When he was about to pull away, Howard kissed him back hesitantly.

"Hey, Howard?" Vince asked, his breath ghosting across Howard's lips

"What?" Howard murmured into Vince's mouth.

"Will you be my boyfriend?" Vince kissed his lower lip.

Howard smiled.

"Vince, didn't I tell you that when I fell in love, it's forever," he captured Vince's mouth slowly.

He felt something wet against his cheek.

"Vince, are you crying again?" he asked nervously.

Vince shook his head and beamed at him.

"I'm just happy, is all," he laughed and wiped his cheek dry, "Did you really mean that? About loving me?"

"Vince, it was always you," said Howard very seriously.

"Good," smiled Vince, "Because, unrequited love's a bitch."

They lay in bed kissing and holding each other for most of the morning before they snuck downstairs to get food. They were arrested by the sight of Naboo in his underpants, turban-less on the kitchen floor. He opened one eye and sighed.

"Oh good you're back. Did you do what I told you?" he said looking at their joint hands.

"What did you want me to do? You never actually said," said Howard, trying not to look at Naboo as he dragged himself to his feet.

"Ah right, never mind eh? Probably wasn't important," he said cradling his head, "Am I naked?" he added in a puzzled voice.

Vince sniggered behind his hand and Howard rolled his eyes.

"You're not wearing a turban," Howard said.

"Oh God! Don't let anyone in, nobody can see me like this. BOLLO! WHERE'S MY SODDING TURBAN, YOU BALLBAG?" he screamed up the stairs.

A faint groan answered him.

"I'm going back to bed," Naboo sighed, "Wake me if anything weird happens."

"Can you be a bit more specific," Vince called after him, but he was gone.

"It'll probably be fine," said Howard with uncharacteristic optimism.

"Yeah," replied Vince, "I think it will."


End file.
